


At Last

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Romance, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-13
Updated: 2008-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Summary: It's 10 years since Justin left for New York. You're all invited to the wedding of the century. I've finally written my own post-513 story. Please take it easy on me. I hope you like it.Disclaimer: The QaF characters belong to Cowlip and Showtime. I am making no money from this and just appreciate the opportunity to play with them.Notes: I dedicate this story to three people:To my two betas:hansardgalandmickiebg. If it weren't for both of you, this story would never have made it to the big screen. :D I love you both. Truly, I have no words.Tobrianswalk, who dared me to write my own story. I wanted that tear and thanks to you I've finally got it. You're a wonderful friend, hugs, J.





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

**Britin: Saturday 27 September 2015**

**Brian's POV**

I studied my image in the full-length mirror in my bedroom with a critical eye for detail. I need not have bothered.  From the top of my perfectly groomed hair to the tips of my shiny black patent Gucci dress shoes, I am beauty personified.

No expense has been spared for this day. As I look closely at the slate gray silk Armani suit, perfectly tailored to my tall sleek frame, white shirt and silver silk tie, pulling everything together nicely, I am well aware of my 45 years. The few sprinkles of gray at my temples are proof that I am older, but I still work out most days and try to eat as healthy as possible. I even quit smoking two years ago. I have to admit I look pretty damn good! But it isn't just the Armani suit and Gucci shoes that make me look perfect today; it's something else, something that comes from within.

Finally, after 10 years we are getting married. I'm still having a hard time believing it, after the last time we tried to do this, but, yeah, we are getting married—tying the knot and I couldn't be any happier! Brian Kinney walking around with a lesbionic smile on his face all day … it's hard to believe, but it's true.

When I think back over the past 10 years, so much has happened, so many changes, good and bad, that brought us to where we are today. I finally have Justin here beside me and it's been worth the wait.

Of course, it hadn't been easy. After Justin left me, and broke my heart, for a shot at the big time in New York I was sure that it was all over between us. Finally, just as everyone had always predicted, Justin Taylor had come to his senses and left me for his one time chance in the so-called "capital" of the art world. It had hurt so much.

Finally, after five years of heartache and joy, from proms and baseball bats to fiddlers, testicular cancer, bombs and "I love you"s—fuck, I even bought Justin this house—what did the little fucker do? Well, he left me, again, and the pain almost brought me to my knees. I couldn't believe it. I was finally ready to commit, to give him everything he had ever wanted and the first chance he got he took it and left.

Not that I blame him for that. Fuck, I practically pushed him out the door. I always wanted the best for Justin. I just thought that the best was me. So off he went to New York and took my heart with him.

It wasn't long before the little twat called me, sent me emails and text messages almost every other day, but I refused all contact with him. No fucking way was I going to put up with all that shit. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it right, and hanging onto me was not the right way to go about it.

I missed him. I hated being alone in the loft. The diner, everything reminded me of him. I even hated the tricks I sometimes brought home, although to be truthful there weren't that many. After you've had and tasted Justin's ass, all the others seemed like a waste of time. A quick blowjob in the ally behind the diner was all I seemed to need these days. My heart just wasn't in it.

Of course, the boys and Deb were concerned about me. Mikey and the professor were always inviting me over for dinner or barbeques, taking me out to Woodys for a game of pool and drinks. Emmett, as always, was looking out for me. For some reason whenever I showed up at the gym Emmett would be there. I know he meant well. It just made me miss Justin all the more, as Emmett always managed to mention Justin in our conversations, telling me that he'd heard from Justin or received an email, letting him know how he was doing in New York. Deb was always coming over to the loft and filling my freezer with food. At least I ate well, when I had any appetite.

Shit, sometimes listening to them just killed me. I didn't want to hear it; it made a mockery of all we'd had.

But I had my work; I had Kinnetik. I even rebuilt Babylon back to its former glory—after all, I needed somewhere to fuck. I'd work for hours, days sometimes, and right there beside me were Ted and Cynthia. They never mentioned Justin, no one did, but I knew they missed him too. They kept in contact with him, and they made sure I knew about certain aspects of his daily life and survival in the Big Apple.

I knew Justin was sharing a crappy, run-down apartment with Daphne's friend in the East Village, and shared studio space with three other hopefuls in Brooklyn. The rent was cheap, and there was plenty of room for him to work on his larger canvasses. I worried about him, where he slept, what he ate, how he paid the bills, but I never told a soul.

Babylon and Kinnetik thrived. I made sure of that. They were all I had left. After Justin and Gus were taken away from me I needed something real, something positive, something that took all the pain away, and working myself to death was the one thing that kept me going, believing in myself.

Then one night, as I sat alone watching one of our favorite movies, the loft door slid open and there he was. He looked fucking amazing. His hair was longer—no money for haircuts, I guess—and he looked more blond. He had such a look of determination on his face that I knew right there and then I was totally fucked. Justin Taylor had always been the most persistent little fucker I'd ever known. The look on his face said it all.

After dropping his duffle bag on the floor he walked up to me and straddled my lap. He leaned in and kissed my mouth hard, but it felt and tasted so wonderful. It felt like coming home. I hadn't kissed anyone else since he left—shit, I hadn't kissed anyone but him in a lifetime, it seemed. Then he pulled back and looked into my eyes.

"Are you listening?" 

His eyes were so clear, so blue.

"Are you really listening? I'm only going to say this once. I'm not going anywhere. I didn't leave you for good. I only moved to New York, not the fucking moon. You are going to visit me at least once a month, and when I can get away and can afford it I'll come and visit you. You're not getting rid of me. You will take my calls and reply to my emails. I'm not giving up on you or us, and I'm not letting you either. I've loved you since I was 17 years old, and I deserve your love and respect. I've earned it. And I dare you to give up what we have. I just fucking dare you, Brian. I need you to survive, to paint, to create, to smile. Fuck, I haven't smiled in months. Now, say you love me, for fuck's sake, and take me to bed. I've missed you!"

It was so wonderful seeing him and fucking him again that I agreed to whatever he decided. Pathetic, I know, but one look at him, into those eyes, that I'd never been able to resist, his mouth and his ass, and I was gone. Very much like the night I first saw him, so young and innocent, but so very brave. I wanted him that night and I want him again, but this time it's forever. He was right. I did want to share my life with him. I deserved this, and him. I stopped fighting it, opened my arms and like the first time I did that, he walked straight into them. I am grateful he's had the balls to come back and face me. He's always been the stronger one, and I love him for it.

He went back to New York to follow his dreams, but this time we knew it wasn't forever. Every month I'd fly there, and he would fly to Pittsburgh as often as he could. On the way back I'd make an extra stop in Toronto to see Gus. I missed him so much, and Justin made me realize that.

"Brian, you need to see your son and he needs to see you. Why don't you fly from here to Toronto, and see him on your way back?"

So I did. Seeing him at least every two months, and for some strange reason he loved me, couldn't wait for my visits. Over the past 10 years I've been a huge part of his life, schooling and education, which I paid for; nothing was more important than Gus' future. School plays and soccer matches, teenager problems—I've been there for it all. He's a wonderful son, my Sonny Boy. Half the time I can't believe he's mine. I have to admit that Mel and Linds have done a great job raising him, but I made sure he knew that I was there for him when it counted, just like Justin did. Both he and Gus share a very special bond and friendship. To this day Gus feels truly blessed. After all, not everyone has two moms and two dads who love him unconditionally. Justin and I would have it no other way.

Then finally after three years Justin came home, back to Britin (I never sold it; I'd bought it for my prince, after all) and back to me. He'd achieved all that he'd wanted to in New York. He had his own agent, he'd had four successful solo shows, was respected in the art world, and decided that finally he could paint anywhere—and anywhere meant being back here at Britin with me and all his family and friends. He would fly back to New York when necessary.

A knock at the door brings me back to the present. As I turn around a cheeky looking Gus sticks his head around the door and says, "Are you decent yet, Dad? All ready to take that final step down the aisle?"

At 15 Gus is tall and gangly. He looks a lot like me, lucky bugger, but has lighter hair like his mother. He still hasn't decided whether he's gay or straight but it doesn't matter, I'll love him no matter what.

I smile at him and tell him to come in quickly, as Justin has been hiding from me all day, something about it being bad luck to see each other on the day before the actual ceremony. Shit, he's still the biggest drama princess on the planet. That's another reason I like having him around.

I look at Gus and think, "Fuck, where has the time gone?" My two favorite men came into my life on the same night, changing it forever, and here they both are today: one of them is my best man, the other is my partner—no, make that life partner.

"So, do you want to back out now, Dad? This is your last chance, any second thoughts?" Gus waves the two plain gold wedding bands on his finger—new rings for another new adventure called married life.

I just smile and shake my head, "Not one." I've been waiting for this day for a long time. We both have. I can't wait to see Justin and finally say the words.

Gus hands me a button-hole, a single white rose with greenery that I'm told Justin wants me to wear. My hands shake slightly, so Gus pins it safely onto my lapel. I look at him and my heart swells with pride. I want to tell him I love him, but as he looks at me and smiles I think he knows. He kisses me and hugs me and tells me it's almost time, that Emmett is downstairs putting the final touches on everything, and that all our family and friends are waiting for the wedding of the year—no, make that the wedding of the fucking century—to begin.

As we leave the room Gus asks, "Dad, when did you know that you loved Justin? You never told me."

I had to stop and think. It felt like I'd always loved him, especially the past 10 years.

I remember him that first night standing under the lamppost, so beautiful yet so scared, and so willing to let me be the first, to be given the honor and the privilege to make him into the man he is today. I remember following him to New York after the little shit stole my credit card. I remember him living with me after his asshole of a father kicked him out. I watched him be crowned the King of Babylon. But I guess it was at his prom that I fell a little bit in love with Justin Taylor. His face lit up the ballroom when he saw me arrive. We danced to that corny old song like Fred and Ginger, and when I kissed him on the dance floor, lifted him up and spun him around, tightly in my arms, I knew then that I was in so deep I was drowning.

Then I kissed him by the jeep in the parking lot. I'd never wanted him more, and I realized that turning 30 and having Justin in my life wasn't so bad after all. I made him so happy that night, I can still see the love and laughter shining from his eyes. He was beautiful.

Then disaster struck, and the fairytale evening came to a tragic end, but somehow he survived. Indeed, we both did, and I was so glad that we'd both been given a second chance. Making love to Justin, bringing him back to me away from the outside world was probably the most meaningful thing I'd ever done in my sometimes fucked up selfish life. Of course, it had to end. We both messed it up the next time, and we may do so again, but I swear I'll try to be everything he needs. After all the bullshit I've sometimes put him through he deserves it. I owe him—no, both of us—that.

Gus is still looking at me, waiting for the answer. I've never lied to him and I'm not going to start now. So I simply tell him, "When I thought he'd died. When I thought I was going to lose him before I told him I loved him was the worst part of that night. Don't ever take that chance. If you love someone, Gus, let them know, okay? If you miss your chance you may never get another one."

"I won't, Dad, I promise," Gus reassures me, "Now let's get this show on the road. Justin is waiting. You know how he hates it when you're late."

As we both walk out into the rose-filled garden the sun is shining and all our family and friends are sitting there waiting for us to begin. I take a deep breath as I stand beside my son and the minister. I look up and see Justin walking towards me with his mother on his arm. Jennifer looks stunning in her teal lace Chanel dress and matching covered shoes, which are a gift from both of us. He looks so beautiful in his midnight blue Armani suit, baby blue open-necked silk shirt, no tie, and with a smile so bright it outshines the sun.

"Please, let me always be enough from him," I murmur under my breath.

A single tear falls from my eye and runs down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly but he's onto me—he's always been onto me. He places his hands in mine and we repeat the vows we'd already written to each other. I know that we will love, honor and cherish each other from this day forth.

He places the ring on my finger, lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it, and I do the same for him. There are no words to describe how I'm feeling. I can hardly breathe. Then the minister pronounces us married, and Justin leans in and presses his sweet mouth to mine. I slip my tongue gently into his mouth and suck softly on his lower lip. He tastes so good.

We break apart and I can hear our guests laughing and clapping. Jennifer, Molly, Daphne, Deb and Emmett are all crying, of course. Even Mikey is moved, I can tell. The music begins to play. Justin requested "At Last" by Etta James; he said it seemed the perfect choice for us. As Justin places his hand in mine, I lead him back up the arbor strewn with white rose petals. He's smiling that smile, so beautiful, so finally mine.

As we're walking I turn to Justin and say, "I know I don't deserve you but there's no turning back this time—no apologies, no regrets."

Justin pinches me lightly and says, "You've always deserved me. We deserve each other. Who else would put up with us?"

Later at the reception I watch him from across the room as he's dancing with Jennifer. He's danced at least once with all the women in our family, who of course love him. Deb has loved Justin since the moment she met him; he'll always be her "sunshine". If she cries one more time I'll have to strangle her.

Linds, Mel and JR flew in from Toronto. It's great to see them again. JR is all grown up. She looks like Mikey, thank God, and Gus has always adored her. She does have a smart mouth. I wonder who she got that from?

Daphne flew in from Chicago with her husband, Jordan—I think that's his name. They're both doctors and have no kids as yet. Of course, Daphne had to take Justin out last night, his last night of freedom, whatever the fuck that means. They went go-go dancing at Babylon, followed by a late-night visit to the diner for pizza. I chose to stay home with Gus, spending quality time together. I finally beat him at Halo on the Xbox.

Looking around, I can't help but feel proud of all that Justin and I have achieved. We have a beautiful home filled with beautiful things that we both chose, although I leave the color scheme and the art adorning the walls of Britin to him. Some of his most famous pieces were painted here in his studio. They still sell for exorbitant prices. A Justin Taylor original is truly for the rich and privileged.

He still sketches me every chance he gets. I'd love a dollar for every drawing or sketch he's ever done of me. My cock still rates quite highly in the scheme of things, and he'll still be sketching me when I'm 80. It still amazes me that at the age of 33 he still looks 23, still blond and blue-eyed, the best ass I've ever seen. He could have had anyone, but he's only ever wanted me.

When we decided to be monogamous I still had my doubts about whether Justin was ready. I had no doubts—I was 42 and I had tricked with thousands of guys. I'd fucked and sucked my way through most, if not all, of gay Pittsburgh. I was getting older and getting bored with the tricks. No one ever made me feel as good as Justin. But Justin was only 30 years old—as old as I was when I first met him. At that age I fucked everything that moved. When I tried to argue this point with Justin, to tell him it was okay if he still wanted to turn tricks, if he wasn't ready or willing to give them up, just because I wanted to, he just smiled, shook his head and told me that I'd always been the only one he wanted to fuck. He said he tricked because I liked to trick, especially if we picked up a third party. It was fun sometimes, but he didn't feel the need to fuck every guy he met; he was happy to fuck only me, and doing it raw was something he'd wanted for a long, long time.

Justin is talking to Mikey and Ben. Mikey worries about Ben's health, but the professor looks fine to me. He's a little older, thinning on top, and not as muscle-bound as he used to be. Who is? With Hunter and JR, Mikey and Ben finally got the family they always wanted. I watch Hunter talking to Gus. He's still a sarcastic little shit and still trying to get into my pants, but I've always had a soft spot for him. He helped Justin and me once and I've never forgotten it. 

Ted, Blake, Emmett and Cynthia are all laughing at something Carl said. What would I have done without Ted Schmidt? I can't forget Cynthia. I'd never tell them but in those early days of Kinnetik they gave me the strength to keep going. They believed in me, knew I needed to make Kinnetik a success, keep the accounts and get new ones. They knew that with Justin in New York I needed Kinnetik to keep me sane. They are worth their weight in gold, and I'll always be indebted to them. I pay them a shitload of money; they've earned every cent.

It's time to cut the cake. I wish we were back at the loft. I'd strip him naked and cover his body, especially his cock, with some of the creamy white icing, and then I'd proceed to lick it off him. It's been a few days since I last had him, and I can't wait to be inside him  again.

It still baffles me that, after 15 years together and the hundreds—no, thousands—of times we've fucked, sex with Justin is still new, still hot and exciting. I can never get close enough or deep enough. His smell, the taste of him and, yes, his shyness still at times are all a mystery—one that I hope never to solve. I once told Mikey that there was no such thing as enough. With Justin I meant it.

Toasting each other with champagne, we cut the cake. After feeding it to each other and both of us sucking and kissing the soft, sweet icing off each other's fingers and lips, it's time for the last song of the night.

I lead Justin onto the dance floor, take him into my arms and nod to the DJ. As the first strains of "Save the Last Dance" are heard, he looks up at me and smiles so brightly its blinding. I hold him close to my body and together we waltz around the floor like we did once before. But this time he'll remember it, remember all the love and laughter, and I promise that nothing, and no one, will ever come between us again.

As I dip him slowly backwards, he hangs on tightly and lets out a peal of laughter. I kiss him deeply, our tongues entwining inside his mouth. I twirl and lift him off the ground, and all our family and friends stand and applaud.

I lean in close, place my lips to his ear and whisper, "I love you, Justin. God, how I love you."

As he leans his forehead against mine, he kisses my nose, my eyes  and my lips ever so softly. He leans back a little and smiles. Looking into my eyes he says, "Not half as much as I love you, Mr Kinney."

**JUSTIN'S POV: Back at the loft**

Lying here, I can't believe it. It's happened—Brian and I are married. I'm so happy this day has finally arrived. What a magical day! There was nothing I couldn't have had. Brian had told Emmett that the sky's the limit, but this time around all I want is Brian. After all these years, through all the pain, the tears, the separations, I finally landed the guy—unfuckingbelievable!

From the moment I saw him when I was 17 I knew we were destined to be together. I can still remember that first night. He looked like a God—and still does. I'd never seen anything so beautiful. When he took me home and made love to me, I never wanted to leave. Somehow I knew that, as much as he denied it, he needed me, too. Call it destiny but I wanted him, and I made sure that I got him. Okay, so it took a while—15 years, to be precise—but we finally made it. And it was worth waiting 15 years.

We'll be honeymooning in Paris. We leave tomorrow for two weeks, revisiting all the places that have become special to us over the years. They hold lots of memories for both of us. 

Although Britin is our family home, Brian and I own a few properties all over the world, from our apartment in Soho, New York, to our villa in Tuscany, Italy. But the place I love the most is here at the loft. _Are you coming or going_ , he'd asked me that night. I'm so glad I stayed. It's where Brian and I made love for the first time, and it's where we've fucked more times than I can count. It's where we've argued and fought, where I've walked out and left him, only to return time and time again, and it's where he finally proposed again only a few months ago. He was 45 and didn't want to wait any longer, so one afternoon as we sat watching a movie he turned to me and said, "So, do you still want to marry me, Sunshine?"

Ever since I returned from New York seven years ago we have lived at the loft, and spent the weekends at Britin. Gus came for the summer every year. We eventually redecorated and furnished Britin. We even bought horses for the stables. But it was here at the loft where we both loved to be.

I was still painting, of course—quite the star in the art world now—but my inspiration, my passion, my reason for life was here, living with Brian. Our family was here. It was enough. When I had to travel to New York on business Brian sometimes accompanied me; he would oversee the New York branch of Kinnetik that he'd opened two years ago, which was run by Ted. Ted and Blake were still together. Ted had turned out to be so much more than an accountant. He was a true friend and business partner to Brian and a great asset to Kinnetik. Brian once told me that if it hadn't been for Ted, Kinnetik wouldn't be the huge success it was today.

When Brian asked me where I wanted to spend my honeymoon night I told him that I'd like to spend it at the loft. He looked surprised but smiled and told me he'd handle everything.

Upon arriving at the loft, totally exhausted but so happy from the hectic day we'd had, I noticed that Brian had added some special touches to the place. It's no wonder I love this man; he's so kind and thoughtful and truly romantic. Don't tell him though; never in a million years would he agree with you.

There were vanilla scented candles and bouquets of beautiful white long-stemmed roses, Moet champagne and fresh strawberries. He'd even provided pop tarts for breakfast. Now that's true love for you.

I hear him turn off the shower—I'd already had mine—and I wait for him to join me in our bed, where we've loved each other hundreds of times but never like tonight, as a married couple.

We've been monogamous for the past three years, both finally admitting that we only need each other. I can't wait to feel him inside me. It's been too long, only him now, no need for barriers of latex, to feel the heat, the pulse of his cock and for his hot cum to fill my ass. There's no feeling in the world quite like it. The first time we made love raw we both experienced something so intense yet so meaningful. Watching Brian eat his own cum dripping out of my ass was the hottest thing I've ever seen—or felt, for that matter. When I returned the favor Brian admitted that he almost enjoyed it as much as topping me. Brian only ever bottoms for me. I love to top him, but having his cock up my ass, pounding into me over and over again, is the greatest feeling. I can feel just how much he loves me, loves us together. He's the top and I want him to stay there.

Before joining me in our bed, Brian lights the candles and places the strawberries and champagne on the nightstand. Taking me into his arms, he nuzzles my neck and then licks my lips. His skin is still warm from the shower. His smell and the taste of his mouth—I want him, need him to make love to me every day. At times our thirst for each other is insatiable, never old, always new. It's like breathing. I need him to survive. He starts to suck hard at the juncture where my collarbone meets my neck. It will leave a mark tomorrow but I don't care. I belong to Brian and he knows it. 

As he moves lower down my body, nipping and licking my skin, I feel so loved, so worshipped. I lift my hips off the bed, my leaking cock hitting his cheek. He takes me fully into his mouth, sucking down to the base, swirling his tongue around the head, tongue fucking the slit over and over. It feels so good. He's devouring me, murmuring my name continuously.

He kisses my shaft, then licks and sucks my balls into his mouth. He can't get close enough to me. I place my hand gently onto the back of his head, calling out his name. He looks up at me and smiles. I love this man. For the rest of my life I'll prove that I'm worth it, worth the chance he was willing to take again, to ask me to marry him again. I know I'm the only one who can destroy him. It's only ever been me; he loves me that much.

He opens my legs and moves in between them, placing small kisses along my inner thighs, moving towards my hole. Brian loves to rim me, loves the heat, smell and taste of my ass on his tongue. He sucks deep and it's so hot and wet; then he pushes his tongue in my hole, as far as he can go, then pulls out and pushes back in quickly, and starts tongue fucking me as fast and as deep as he possibly can. I feel the tightening in my balls. It's too much—I'm going to cum. I grab hold of his head, his hair still damp, and pull him off and up towards me. 

His mouth smashes into mine. I can taste myself on his wet tongue, which is so far down my throat I can hardly breathe. I take his cock, which is leaking pre-cum over my fingers, and slide my hand up and down his shaft. I pull my hand away and bring it to my mouth. I crave his taste. I suck and lick my fingers clean.

"Please, Brian," I say, "I want you inside. Fuck me."

I never have to ask him twice. He reaches for the lube, squirts a little on his fingers, then pushes two of them gently into my hole, stretching me, preparing me for him. I love the burn of that first push inside. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and whispering my name over and over.

When I'm open and more than ready he reaches down and places his hot, throbbing cock at the entrance to my hole and pushes into me with one hard thrust, so deep I can feel every inch of him, his balls slapping my ass cheeks. I lose it. He pulls out slowly, nearly all the way, then slams into me again. I can never get enough of him. He takes hold of my aching cock and starts to pull in time with his thrusts deep into my body. I'm close. Brian's also close; I can tell by looking at his face. His head is back, sweat rolling down his neck, mouth open. If I'd never known the ecstasy he's feeling, I'd say he was in pain.

Just a few more hard jabs, and I can feel his cock pulsing deep inside my ass, his warm seed filling me. That sensation, along with the tug on my dick, brings about my own release.  
  
I cry out his name as I come, shooting all over his hand, his chest and even his hair. My orgasm is so great it rips through my entire body.  
  
I reach up and kiss his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, slowly working my way down his neck, licking at his chest now covered with my cum. I lap it up, all the while staring at him, knowing that the sight of me doing that is making him hard again.

"Rim me," I beg, needing to feel part of him inside me again. I need his tongue to fill the void left by his cock after he pulled out.  

Brian looks down and smiles, he licks me on the lips and starts moving downward, rolling me over gently. I feel his face pressed up against my ass, his warm breath close to my balls, making them tingle in anticipation as he presses his tongue to my hole, which is still wet with his essence. I feel him gently sucking on me, twirling his tongue around, until he hears me cry out.     
  
He loves to feel this, to know that he's the only one who can bring me to such heights, every squirm and whimper proof that he can also destroy me without even trying. He has branded me with his love making, branded my heart forever.      
  
"Was it all you wished for, Sunshine?" he asks much later as we lay entwined. "Did I finally make all your dreams come true?"  
  
I look at his raised eyebrows, his smirk so much a part of him, and I whisper, "You know you have." 

His tongue is pressed into his right cheek. I've always adored that smirk on his beautiful face. Although there are a few small lines around his eyes now, he is still perfect in every way. I try to find the words to tell him all that I need to say, for making our wedding day so beautiful and perfect and for this love that we share.

I take his left hand in mine and join our fingers together, the gold bands glowing in the candlelight. I kiss the rings and our joined fingers. I hope he can hear me even though my words remain unspoken. I hope he understands the depth of my love. I'm sure he can because from somewhere deep inside me I hear the words "ridiculously romantic". And that's us, now and for always. As his lips take mine in the hottest, deepest kiss, I know that I'll always be Brian Kinney's blond, blue-eyed twink, in this lifetime and into the next.

The End


End file.
